Some people are born to greatness while others have greatness thrust upon them. Neither of those describes me. I'm more of the hermit/crotchety/Pastafarian/mediocre type carbon life form. I keep living my life until I have wealth thrust upon me which will happen when I find that cached pirate’s booty that has been buried in the back forty. (Don’t ask me how, or why, pirates would bury their gold miles from the ocean and in the bush, they just did okay.)

Sunday, March 6, 2011

I'm A Lumberjack And That's Okay

So today was a day of beauty, in fact I would give it an 8 out of 10. To begin with it was into the double digits temperature wise, and the wind was definitely a Chinook, I don't care what these easterners say, it knocked the ever living crap out of the snow. The house was, and is still warm, despite the fact that we haven't had a fire on all day. I am loving it!

Being such a great start to the day I felt all energized and decided to tackle some of the massive amounts of dirt and general disorderliness which I have allowed the environs to become infected with. So I managed to kick my butt into a whirlwind of cleaning. It was good. Of course I had to throw the little girl outside and tie her up by the neck as she insisted on helping me with the mopping and cleaning. Just as a note here, German Shepherd pups are NOT very good cleaners. Then I threw one of my running CD's onto the ghetto blaster and cranked er up. Two hours later I had a relatively clean house, considering that I have plywood floors in the hall, and we took down the panelling in there as well, so there is nothing but bare, shitty gyprock which will have to be removed when we get serious about deconstruction. Oh and by the way I think that the guy who built this house figured that unless he glued the panels to the wall then used approximately three thousand nails to hold them on securely they would somehow develop the need to rip themselves off the walls and run away to join the circus. And when I say three thousand nails, it isn't an exaggeration. I really mean it.

Anyway after a rather nice lunch consisting of leftover paprikas csirka and pogotchees I decided to go and take a walk to the back forty and then cut down some trees and brush. You see, I have a vision, which will take approximately twenty years to get to, but I am determined to do it. We have a beautiful start to the most amazing park like forest on our property so I want to sort of help it along. I can envision it becoming this Shangri-La (personally I think it already is) a place where people of all ages want to go for long walks, build forts, contemplate their navels and just enjoy. So the hubby, not someone who can ever let the opportunity of using a chainsaw go by, came with me to do a tiny bit of clearing. So we fired up the saws and spent a tiny bit of time clearing out willows, underbrush, and a couple of widow makers. Then we spent a LOT of time dragging those branches over to the brush pile. (Which the hubby just burnt a few weeks ago, but we won't go there.) We couldn't have been at the task for more than three hours, and by the time we got back to the shack 90% of our snow was gone from the front lawn. How cool is that!

Then I made a not too bad supper, pineapple chicken, quinoa, carrots and watermelon. So what do you think, 8 out of 10 or what? If the roads hadn't of been this big soupy mud slop then I would have given it a 9.

Tomorrow is supposed to be even warmer than today was, so I plan to do a bit of research and find out if I can try to get some maple syrup. I think the ideal weather is about being cold at night and warm during the day, but I'm not sure. Times like these I'm glad there is good old Wiki to ask!

About Me

Iron Bess isn’t my real name, it is the name I use when I am working undercover for the CIA, M5, and the FSM. Every post in this blog is coded to send my secrets across the ether safely to Cthulu’s minions who will use the information to infiltrate all the governments of the world. You may have seen some of my influences already. Casual Fridays. Inspirational posters on the walls. Four hour budget meetings right after lunch. Employee evaluations. And the pièce de résistance, TV commercials. Diabolical.
In the meantime I hang out at Kitpu Estates pretending to be a hermit while trying to hide my ankle monitor as I await sentencing for that stabby little incident with the waiter who was trying to take my plate before I was done all of my cake. It was a trifling little matter, after all he still has his other hand.